


Caged Birds Don't Always Sing

by Elevensins



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: M/M, Still a favorite however, old story is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elevensins/pseuds/Elevensins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saionji struggles against the game, and against Touga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged Birds Don't Always Sing

Touga purred out a quiet chuckle, languidly arranged along a fainting couch located conspicuously close to Saionji’s dorm room. The one located in the lounge just around the corner from it. Former dorm room, at least. He knew his childhood friend sulked still after the trouncing by Tenjou Utena, and then the subsequent result of his actions, expulsion from the Academy. Sulked and packed his things, just waiting for his old ‘friend’ to show up and taunt him. But, Touga had no such intentions. No, Saionji would come to him, eventually. It was always that way.

A gaggle of young females watched him from their corner of the lounge, whispering excitedly. The Student Council President hardly paid them any mind. As the most beautiful face in all of Ohtori, he had grown used to the stares and sighs and distant adulation of the female populace, and partly the male populace, too. He learned to bask in his glory, giving out just enough to keep them curious while maintaining his mystique. Just a pose could set hearts afire all around him. But today he felt no need to gather posies of admirers. He had someone in particular to torment.

Boots sounded off the tile flooring down the hallway and Touga already knew that Saionji approached. How long had they been friends? Long enough that the mere pattern of footfalls identified him. Sure enough, dressed in jeans and a loose, cream colored shirt, Saionji paused in the door to the lounge, green hair pulled up into a loose knot at the back of his skull. “I knew you’d be waiting.” He leaned into the door frame, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants while he regarded the redhead lounging near him.

“Are you all packed, Saionji?”

“Yes. I suppose you weren’t really here to say good-bye to me, were you. Just to gloat.”

Saionji’s voice contained a ripe bitterness, the words meant to lash out like a bokken. As always, Touga parried effortlessly.

“You wound me, old friend. I know you lost the Rose Bride, but that’s not why I’m here, waiting for you.”

Saionji winced involuntarily at the mention of his loss. Anthy had been his, and Tenjou swept her out from under him. Touga reveled in taking Saionji’s losses and throwing them back into his face, even in the most subtle of manners. “How pleasant. What do I owe this honor to? What else can you torment me with?” Had it ever been different? While Touga remained so calm and controlled, Saionji couldn’t help wearing his emotions on his sleeves and in their poker games of daily interaction, he always gave away what cards he held. Touga, on the other hand, had a mask eternally set in place. You never knew his hand until he laid it down and somehow he always came up with aces.

Touga rose fluidly from the fainting couch, another chorus of sighs emitting from the group of girls at the far end of the room. Saionji had once been just as popular, though always just shy of attaining the same status as the Council President, but now they hardly looked his way. Rumor had spread far and wide of his expulsion already and as if he were a fallen angel, the residents of heaven refused to look at him other than in pity or shame. His gaze narrowed toward the girls, but his attention was quickly drawn back to his friend as Touga’s hand came to rest on his shoulder heavily.

“When you fall, you fall like Lucifer, ne'er to ascend again,” he murmured in that seductive purr of his. Then, grasping both of Saionji’s shoulders, he turned the green haired former student around and gave him a light shove into the hallway. Numbly, Saionji didn’t even bother to resist, finding himself alone in the corridor, Touga just behind him. But once there, he whirled around, just before he took the opportunity to free Saionji’s hair from its confinements. The redhead stood there with a hand raised, lowering it slowly with a sigh.

“I’m not coming back,” Saionji stated abruptly, bringing a look of perplexity to the redhead’s features. He took the opportunity to quickly add, “Don’t bother getting my expulsion overturned. I’m leaving here, and I’m not coming back.”

This earned a silvery laugh. Fingers crept beneath Saionji’s shirt, pressing against the flesh of his chest and leaned in toward his ear warmth of Touga’s breath against his throat brought goosebumps along his forearms. “You don’t fool me, Kyouichi. You shouldn’t make decisions like this so suddenly. Come, we can ta–”

“No!” Saionji braced himself and broke free from Touga’s grasp, shoving him back to give them room, to face him with expression stern, stance defensive. “No,” he repeated in a softer tone. “I am resolute on this, Touga.”

Touga regarded him for a long moment and Saionji began to wonder if he might have actually angered his old friend. Few had ever seen past Touga’s facade of preternatural calm, but having known him for so long, Saionji had seen nearly every facet of his personality. The many faces of Kiryuu Touga. Surprisingly, he nodded and immediately earned Saionji’s mistrust. Touga never gave in, he always got what he wanted.

“Very well. If that is what you want but…”

There was always a but.

“… first we have one last duel. If you win, you may go with my blessing. If I win…” and he smiled, leaving Saionji to determine what prize Touga would claim as victor.

“You always win, Touga,” Saionji replied with a derisive snort. “But you can’t this time. I will have your last spar with you, but for no prize. I am leaving when it is over.”

The redhead shrugged casually, though the storm behind his eyes had begun to gather. “So be it… Saionji.”

The crack of bokkens echoed through the air, the space between strikes sounding of feet scooting across wooden floors and the whistling of practice weapons. Saionji took his blows as always, and delivered far fewer in return. His face remained a mask of determination, false hope. Touga’s never wavered from a knowing smile, meeting his thrusts blow for blow.

“No wonder you lost the Rose Bride,” he said as Saionji found himself yet again disarmed, the bokken flying off to the side to strike the floor with a hollow clatter.

Breathless, weary, Saionji did not bother with his usual growl of determination. It had been bled dry at last. Not even the scathing comment on his own failure produced the normal, irritated response. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that Touga wanted him to fall into irrationality again. “It’s over, then. We’re done. You win. I will go now.”

“Saionji,” Touga’s voice no longer held the languid, playful tone. His voice normally slid like silk over flesh, and now it grated like hooks, grasping and holding as fast as if he’d grabbed Saionji’s arm. The former student paused, turning to face his old friend. “You can’t be serious about this. We have not completed our goals yet. The Ends of the World has plans for us. You included.”

“I’m sure the Ends of the World can find another puppet,” Saionji replied bitterly. “I, however, am leaving this game. No more duels. No more Saionji Kyouichi.”

Touga fell quiet, striding toward the fallen bokkan to remove it from the floor where it had fallen. Saionji watched him for only a moment and then took the opportunity to stride toward the door in the silence.

“Kyouichi!” Touga shouted and Saionji turned in time to catch the bokken as it flew through the air toward him. But rather than wield it against Touga, to allow himself to be drawn into yet another sparring match, he threw it down to the floor immediately, arms at his sides without so much as a defensive stance. Confused, Touga lowered his bokken until his own stance relaxed. For as long as the two had been 'friends’, Saionji struggled. Struggled to outdo Touga, struggled against Touga’s lusts and desires, struggled to eke out some sort of existence that was not overshadowed by the superiority of his best friend. Now he had ceased to struggle and ended the game as quickly as if he’d turned the chessboard over and scattered the pieces across the floor.

“It’s over,” Saionji whispered, voice barely audible. “Let me go, Touga.”

Eyes drifting shut, Touga lowered his chin, giving only the slightest nod to Saionji. A veil of red hair fell over his face, shadowing his features in the dimness of their practice room. Saionji bit back the urge to reach out to Touga, resisted the memories of another time, when they were children and things were not so complicated as they had become. When they found the little girl with the pink hair resting in her coffin.

Willing his feet to move, he turned to exit the door. The rustle of movement behind him came too quickly for his reaction. Touga’s eyes snapped open as he saw his friend turn his back to him, the knife removed from the belt around his waist as swiftly as wind over the wild grass of a prairie. He found flesh yielding easily to the blade’s sharpness, implanted deeply within Saionji’s lower back while his free hand wrapped around the other’s shoulder, fingers splayed against his chest while he held him fast.

Saionji’s mouth fell agape, body buckling under the brunt of the attack. He felt the hot insertion of the blade, and after a moment the numbness and surprise wore off to leave behind only the pain. “Touga!”

“I will give you freedom, if that is what you truly want, Saionji…” Touga’s voice purred into his ear and he twisted the knife by the hilt, bringing Saionji to jerk, crying out despite himself. “The ultimate freedom is death. Did you really think I would let you go? You are mine… you have always been mine.”

He woke suddenly and sat up to clap a hand over his mouth and stifle any desire to cry out. The light of false dawn predicted morning’s imminent arrival outside the window, curtains swaying gently in a light breeze. It slithered over his skin, cooling the coating of nightmare wrought sweat. It took a moment to reorient himself, the dream still vivid within his memory, the feeling of the blade twisting within his body. A hand reached to feel at the point where the blade had inserted itself, finding that it tingled, but there was no pain. Just a dream and nothing more.

A quiet purr echoed from the body beside him and Saionji stared at the sleeping form of Touga, resplendent in the dim lighting from outside. Mauve and gold always reflected well off his form, especially the crimson glow to his hair. How the dream had taken a much darker twist to the events of the day prior. Saionji had, indeed, attempted to leave permanently, but Touga had convinced him to remain, resorting to seduction in the end.

“Are you thinking of sneaking out?” he yawned, stretching out as languidly as the cat who’d eaten the canary and gotten away with it. Saionji leaned forward, drawing his knees in against his chest.

“No, Touga. I’m not going anywhere, it was just a dream.”

“Hn,” Touga replied absently before letting his eyes drift shut again. “Then get back down here, it’s far too early to be awake.”

Obediently, Saionji fell back against the mattress, abruptly grabbed by Touga and turned onto his side before dragged in against the other’s body. Touga lifted his head long enough to nip at the former student’s ear and trace his lips along the back of his throat before settling down to fall back into sleep.

“Possessive as always, Touga,” Saionji sighed quietly in the stillness. Touga’s response was only a purring chuckle, arms tightening around his friend for a moment to drive the point home.

“You are mine, Kyouichi,” he murmured.

“I know. And Tenjou Utena?”

Silence greeted the question for a moment. “Go to sleep, Saionji.”

“Yes, Touga,” he replied and obediently shut his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This, and a bunch of other stories, was written a long time ago back during the height of an abusive relationship. I'm long since free, but I look back at these and remember. I lost my password for my original account on fanfiction.net, so I'm gradually transporting old fics here for storage. (In other words, yes, I am Raichutec.)


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